


Smite the Unrighteous

by enigmaticblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:06:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John pushes too hard; Castiel pushes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smite the Unrighteous

**Author's Note:**

> Um…yeah. This is crack born of a conversation between me and thomasina75, where we talked about how Castiel might respond to John Winchester, and I said that Castiel would likely smite him, and I'd like to see Cas turn him into something fluffy. Like an angora rabbit.

Castiel had promised to give Dean time to explain to his father what had happened—both why Dean had been out of contact for a while, and why Sam had called John from the hospital with news that Dean had nearly died. John had been on the other side of the country when Sam had finally reached him, and he’d still been a day’s drive away when Dean was pronounced well enough to leave.

“Dad might need to vent a little,” Dean had warned him before leaving the hospital. “And you’re probably not his favorite person right now.”

Castiel didn’t want to leave Dean alone, however. The last time he’d done so, Dean had nearly been killed, and Castiel had sworn—at least to himself—that he wouldn’t allow Dean to be hurt again. The fact that Dean was out of intensive care, and standing on his own two feet facing off with John Winchester in a motel room, was little comfort.

His promise was the reason that Castiel remained in a corner of the motel room, invisible, but able to see and hear everything.

“I can’t believe you allowed those feathered assholes to kidnap you!” John’s booming voice echoed through the room, and Castiel winced in unison with Dean. He’d known the explosion was coming by the way John had become progressively more agitated, pacing the length of the room and gesturing angrily.

Dean sighed. “I didn’t _let_ them do anything. One minute I’m with Sam, and the next I’m not. If they ever transport you somewhere without your permission, you’ll understand.”

“Oh, I think I understand,” John muttered. “You’re letting them order you around.”

“I told you already,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, the comforter patterned with wolves. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” John shot back, pointing a thick finger in Dean’s direction. “You were nearly killed! This isn’t your fight.”

Dean glared at his father. “Yes, it is. I told you, Dad. This is my fault. I broke the first seal, so I have to stop it.”

Castiel ached at the hurt in Dean’s voice, and he longed to wipe Dean’s memory of Alastair’s words, to heal Dean’s wounds and make him forget that any of this had happened. Castiel had no orders that would allow him to do any of those things, and the _wanting_ startled him; he knew that he should not have these desires or doubts.

“So now you’re the special one?” John stopped in front of Dean, throwing up his hands. “Fuck them, son. Walk away.”

“I can’t.” Castiel clearly heard the frustration in Dean’s voice. “Dad, Cas saved me from _hell_. If nothing else, I owe him.”

John snorted derisively and leaned in close, nose to nose with Dean now. “And these dicks have you doing their dirty work for them. The angels made you their bitch, and your _brother_ had to use those damn powers of his to get you out of it.”

Castiel saw the hurt flare in Dean’s eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

John didn’t seem to hear him. “You’re so caught up in this damn cause and being special enough to be the one to stop the fucking _apocalypse_—if that’s even what’s going on—that you forgot the mission.” John’s eyes narrowed. “You forgot to protect Sam.”

Castiel decided that enough was enough, and he stepped forward, revealing himself to both Winchesters. “You do not know that of which you speak, John Winchester.”

“I know that you’re messing with my son,” John snapped, getting in Castiel’s face.

Castiel understood objectively that John was attempting to intimidate him, although he was unfazed. He had his father’s might on his side. “Your son has been called for a purpose, and he is fulfilling that purpose.”

“Screw your purpose, whatever the hell it might be.” John’s finger poked Castiel in the chest repeatedly. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? Find someone else, and leave my son alone.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, his temper rising. “I raised Dean from perdition. He is the only one who can end this. I’m following my father’s orders.”

John’s lips curled in a snarl. “Your _father_—”

“Dad!” Dean called, beginning to look alarmed. “Don’t—”

Castiel went nose to nose with John. “What about my father?”

“Your _father_ is a fucking coward who can’t take care of his own dirty work.”

Castiel’s fraying temper snapped, and he avoided killing John only out of respect for Dean. Still, John Winchester was a thorn in his side, and John’s criticisms would only serve to distract Dean, and might cause him to question his purpose, and his worth. Castiel would not allow that.

And he had a solution.

The flash of light left Dean blinking, looking around wildly for his father. “Cas? Where’s Dad?”

Castiel glanced down at the floor and the pile of clothes that lay there in response.

Dean made a choking sound. “Did you—”

“He’s not dead,” Castiel hastened to assure him. “Your father is quite well.”

“Then where is he?” Dean asked, his eyes wild.

Just then, Sam burst in, gun drawn. “Dean, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but Cas just did something to Dad,” he replied, pointing at the pile of clothes.

Sam frowned. “What—”

Sam’s question was cut off when the pile of clothing shifted, and a very large, very fluffy bunny hopped out from under John’s jacket. Its fur was the same color as John Winchester’s hair—black shot with gray, and Castiel felt a warm glow of satisfaction at the sight.

Humanity might be the pinnacle of his father’s creation, but he did rather like rabbits, and the fluffier, the better.

Sam and Dean exchanged wide-eyed looks. “Uh, Cas?” Sam managed. “Is that Dad?”

“Yes. He was irritating me.”

Sam looked to Dean, who appeared torn between concern and laughter. “Dad may have called God a ‘fucking coward.’”

Sam’s eyes went wide in shock. “To your face?” he asked Castiel.

“He poked me in the chest, too. Repeatedly.” Castiel watched as the rabbit hopped over to his feet and began nibbling on his shoelaces. Castiel’s lips twitched into a smile. John might think he was damaging Castiel’s shoes, but he didn’t seem to realize that Castiel could repair them with a thought—which he did, just to prove his point.

The rabbit looked up at him with a highly disgruntled expression; Castiel knew that John would have been cursing him had he been able to speak, and he smiled serenely.

Sam stared at Castiel and then looked at the rabbit, and finally began laughing. Slow, quiet chuckles at first, that soon exploded into raucous guffaws. Dean held out for a little longer, but he soon joined his brother.

John-the-rabbit continued to nibble on Castiel’s shoes, which appeared to provide great amusement for Sam and Dean. Both of them would break out in laughter yet again every time one of them caught sight of the rabbit methodically nibbling away at laces that never showed damage.

Really, Castiel had known that John was stubborn, but this was ridiculous.

“Oh, hell,” Dean finally said weakly, swiping at his eyes. “You’ve got to turn him back, Cas.”

“I don’t see why,” Castiel replied stiffly, wondering at the warm feeling that the Winchesters’ laughter had kindled in his chest. “He was shouting at you, and he was insulting me.”

“He was just worried about me,” Dean replied, his tone wheedling. “Dad gets really angry when he’s worried.”

Castiel sat down on the bed next to Dean, moving away from the rabbit. With a thought, he caused a pile of produce to appear, watching as John-the-rabbit hopped over to it, unable to resist the allure of the carrots. “No. Not yet. I want your father to learn his lesson.”

Sam snickered. “How long is that going to be? In case you haven’t noticed, Dad’s pretty stubborn.”

“I’ll know when he’s ready.” Castiel could be stubborn, too. “When he’s ready to accept your role, Dean, I will return him to his previous form, and not until then.”

The look that Dean and Sam exchanged made it clear that they didn’t want to make him angry and perhaps get turned into something fluffy. He filed that thought away for future reference.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean finally said, glancing down at the rabbit dubiously. “But what are we going to do with him?”

~~~~~

After some debate—mostly between Sam and Dean, since Cas hadn’t seemed to care—Dean and Sam had agreed that Bobby would probably be the best person to take care of John-the-rabbit. Although still torn between horror and laughter, Dean realized that when Cas finally relented and returned John to his old self, his dad was likely to be far too pissed off at Cas to chew Dean out again.

Getting to Bobby’s was another issue, however. Dean wasn’t about to allow a rabbit in the Impala, not when it would poop and pee all over the place, even if it had been his dad just a few hours ago. Taking his dad’s truck was similarly out of the question—even if Sam had slyly suggested that the mess would serve their dad right.

That left Castiel’s mode of transportation as their only option, although Dean hated to leave his baby unattended.

Dean really wanted to be angry at Castiel for turning his dad into a fucking _rabbit_—a huge, _fluffy_ rabbit—but every time he looked at the hairy thing, Dean started snickering.

The rabbit—Dean had a hard time calling it “dad” or “John” even in his head—was currently nestled in Sam’s arms. Cas had tried to pick him up, and the rabbit had struck out with its back feet, scratching Castiel’s hand badly.

Judging from the grimly satisfied expression on Cas’ face, that had earned his dad more time as a rabbit.

In the end, the rabbit had only settled down for Sam, probably because Sam was the only one John wasn’t currently pissed off at.

So, now the three of them, plus one large rabbit, stood on Bobby’s porch, looking at each other silently.

“Better knock, Dean,” Sam said, stroking the rabbit with a goofy grin on his face.

Dean sighed and knocked briskly, bracing himself for Bobby’s reaction.

“What the hell are you boys doing here?” Bobby peered over their shoulders, obviously looking for the Impala.

“We traveled by angel, Bobby,” Dean explained. “And we have a little situation.”

“What else is new?” Bobby asked, stepping aside to let them enter. “So, what’s with the rabbit?”

“Uh, that’s Dad,” Sam said, still stroking the rabbit, and still with that goofy grin on his face.

Dean didn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sam so amused, or so happy. So, maybe he could forgive Cas.

Bobby stared at the long-haired rabbit, who had the same colored fur as John Winchester’s beard. “You’re kidding.”

“Dad insulted Cas’ dad,” Dean explained briefly. “And we need you to take him for a while.”

“You want me to _what_?” Bobby demanded.

“Take care of him?” Sam asked, still stroking the rabbit. “Just for a little while.”

“How long?” Bobby asked suspiciously.

“As long as it takes,” Castiel replied grimly.

“As long it takes for what?” Bobby glared at Castiel under the brim of his battered trucker’s hat.

Castiel’s expression was grim. “As long as it takes for John Winchester to learn his lesson.”

“So, until after the end of the world then,” Bobby muttered dryly. Dean saw him eyeing the rabbit, and he knew exactly when it happened—the sheer hilarity of John Winchester as a fluffy bunny caused Bobby’s lips to start twitching.

“I’ll give you a month,” Bobby said gruffly. “After that, you either turn him back, or you turn him into something else.” Bobby frowned. “And why on earth would you turn John Winchester into an angora rabbit?”

“I like rabbits,” Castiel said defensively. “They are pleasing to the eye and to the touch.”

Dean snorted, trying to hold in his laughter. “You’re absolutely right, Cas,” he said, when the angel gave him a hurt look. “Dad is—really cute like that.”

That set Sam off again; he was laughing so hard he was forced to put the rabbit on the floor. The rabbit, in turn, stared at them all with a disapproving expression.

Bobby studied the rabbit, then Sam, Dean, and Castiel in turn. “Like I said, I’ll give you a month.”

“I believe that a month will be sufficient,” Castiel agreed. “Thank you, Bobby.”

Bobby barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? John’s never gonna live this down.”

“We’ve gotta go,” Dean said, wanting to take off before Bobby changed his mind. “We’ve got a night at the motel paid for, and I left the Impala there.”

“Get out of here,” Bobby growled. “I’ll find somewhere to stash this son of a bitch.”

“Just don’t let him get eaten,” Sam said. “He’s too cute to die.”

Bobby snickered. “Yeah, and I’m going to tell him you said that, too. I’ll keep him safe.”

They were standing in the parking lot outside their motel moments later, and Sam headed for their room, still chuckling. Dean watched him go affectionately, then turned back to Castiel, sensing that he was about to leave. “Hang on, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said immediately. “I know you’re angry, but—”

“I’m not, actually.” The words surprised Dean as much as they probably survived Castiel. “If someone had said that about my dad, I probably would have punched them out.”

“He shouldn’t have said what he did to you,” Castiel said earnestly. “If anyone was at fault for Sam becoming involved, it was me. I should have known what Uriel was doing; I should have been more careful with you.”

Dean held up a hand to cut Castiel off. “We’re okay, Cas. Don’t worry about it.”

Castiel nodded, glancing away.

“So, are you really going to turn him back in a month?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s lips tilted up in one of his almost-smiles. “I promised I would turn him back, but I said nothing about how long he would remain human.”

Dean tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Just—promise me that you won’t smite him again unless he insults your dad.”

“I promise,” Castiel responded, and was gone a moment later.

Dean grinned and shook his head, knowing that his dad was likely was likely to end up as a fluffy bunny again before this was all said and done.


End file.
